"to my ill-prone belly"
by playerhater
Summary: A stoy of pointless slash. WARNING: contains pointless slash!


TITLE: "To My Ill-Prone Belly"   
ANTI-DISCLAIMER: disclaimers suck!  
  
  
He dug a heel into the scuffed floor. Zim stretched. Being short sucked. It was   
wrong that most of the humans got to look down on his toupeed head. It was worse   
that he had to stare up at their crotches. "Bite me" they said.  
  
Dib was off to the side, looking at him, pretending not to, and being   
horrible at it. His eyes were flat on top, he looked annoyed, maybe he was. He   
gave up, and looked at the floor. He glanced up a few times, and scowled in   
between.  
  
Most of the kids were playing games. There was a Playstation hooked up,   
Twister on the rug, and a bottle of Poop Vanilla Coke was being drunk. There was   
bad pop music on, it was loud. The bassline felt like his heart was in his   
ears.   
  
Zim got sick of it and then he walked to Dib.   
  
"Hey, how ya doin?" He exclaimed cheerfully.  
  
Dib didn't say anything. He didn't feel like it.   
  
Zim was puzzled. He was trying to have a normal 'coversation'. He didn't   
remember anything involving awkward silences because there hadn't been anything.   
  
Distressed, he answered for Dib. "Fine, thanks. How are you doing?" Zim   
asked.  
  
"Amazingly." Zim replied and glanced up hopefully.  
  
"Shut up."   
  
They were getting somewhere. Not anywhere pleasant, but hey. Zim waited.  
  
"Alien scum?"  
  
"No! You lie! I am just another revolting humanoid."   
  
"No you aren't."  
  
"Ok, what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing. I'm antisocial."  
  
Zim realized Dib was alone. Gaz wasn't here, she was 68 miles to the east   
of this mind-melting recreational facility. She was playing her   
GameSlave#whatever. Zim sensed his mind melt.  
  
He thought back to Keef.   
  
"Great! Me too! Let's hang out." He flashed a zipper grin.  
  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
26.7 minutes later  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
  
26.7 minutes had passed and they were on their way to their unsanitary   
character building log cabins. The music grew fainter. Dib could hear his own   
heart now. Where it should be. He didn't say anything still. He was in an bad   
mood that was obviously worse. Gravity was pushing all his organs into the pit   
of his stomach. He didn't know why Zim was here with him. Part of him was dying   
to know but not the part that controlled his lips. He would just have to die.   
  
  
Zim kept pace a step behind and to the left of Dib. He was here because   
the others weren't. Their collective stink had been very stinky. Plus, Dib was a   
fraction more interesting than he was stinky. He couldn't even smell him out   
in the open air, surrounded by trees and squirrels. But if he tried hard, he   
could be interested.  
  
Zim remembered vaguely that Dib's cabin was across the bridge from his. He   
felt no all-controlling thirst to kill the Dib. Surprise surprise.   
  
They had been standing in front of the bug splattered window for 8 minutes   
making small talk about things neither of them remember before Dib had meekly   
grabbed his wrist. His flesh was hot. Unbearably so. Zim twitched, but   
he didn't pull his arm away. Instead, he kicked Dib in the groin.  
  
"AHH! PIGSICK!" The movement had startled all coherent and some incoherent   
thoughts out of his brain. When Dib had looked at him confusedly, not letting   
go, he had kicked him. It worked. Dib had to use both hands, one to grab   
the windowsill and one to soothe his crotch.   
  
Zim laughed. Really loud.  
  
"Geez. What was that for?"  
  
"You got all your germs all over my arm."   
  
"I was only trying to- you're sucha stupid idiot!" Dib interrupted himself   
with this newsflash.  
  
He tried again. "I was only trying to touch you."   
  
Zim shrugged. "I was trying to stop it."  
  
"Do Irkens hug and stuff?"  
  
"May-be." Zim rocked back and forth on his feet.   
  
"C'mon. Tell me. I'm not gonna like. Squeeze you to your moosey fate or   
anything."  
  
"Yeah yeah, they hug all the time." A pause. Zim sighed. "There isn't much   
time for it." He waved his hand around to demonstrate. "I! Am! Zeem!"  
  
"Yeah, I know. Hey, Zim. Would it be really weird if i hugged you?"  
  
Zim didn't know if he could take it. His left eyeball started twitching.   
Sweat oozed like lava out of his microscopic Irken pores that would have been   
the volcanoes had I continued the metaphor. " O.K.!"   
  
He stood still for it. He knew this was what had been coming. It was   
strange. It was accepted.   
  
Dib didn't feel angry anymore. The leather jacket feeling was gone; he   
wasn't the bully. For a moment, he had been able to not care. That feeling was   
gone now, but that didn't matter. No one was around to see. Zim didn't count; he   
was an alien. He told everyone that, but they didn't listen, they would realize   
one day how wrong they were when Dib was dead and so were they!   
  
Zim didn't want to at first. That plan backfired badly and in record time,   
even for the mighty ZIM!. His wig was placed on the bed. His contacts came off   
with a squishy plop, plop. He watched Dib stare. Dib stared at Zim watch.  
  
His eyes were wicked cool. Shiny, opaque purple and red, filled with some   
kind of liquid. And huge, bulging out of his head. He was pretty good looking as   
far as little green men go.   
  
Dib grabbed his wrist. Slower this time. A moment later, his arm was   
around his shoulders. He leaned on him, spread his weight out. Then they hugged.   
Zim felt something come back. All this time he had just stood there, being   
hugged. But something came flying back and hit him in the head.  
  
He grinned, and roughly grabbed Dib. Dib nodded. It was accepted. It was   
expected. He was scared. Zim wanted to be ruler again. Dib wasn't sure if he   
was down with that, but Zim was pretty sure he didn't care.   
  
A scuffle in the middle of the room. It was a school dance with no   
dancing. Just like a regular one, only with no school. Their feet shuffled   
weirdly around in circles, joints uncomfortable. They were hugging a million and   
a half ways at once. They made it to the bed, alive. Zim climbed up first,   
dragging Dib up by the arm of his trenchcoat. Now they were on the top bed,   
Dib's. Zim pushed him down roughly but gracefully. Irkens are like that. He sat   
on his stomach like he was a horse. Just sat there for a moment, unsure. He   
yanked Dib back up, and instead, they both sat on the bed, Indian   
style. They made out like that. Slowly, stupidly, dry, legs twisted into   
pretzels. It was the only way.   
  
Neither of them had the guts to disagree.   
  
Zim did, however, have a squiddly spooch. But squiddly spoochs aren't   
particularily good for anything, really.   
  
Dib wrapped his arms around him. He fell back, against the wall. It made a   
solid thud. Zim pushed against him,   
fuck Indian-style, he was on his knees. His knees dug into the mattress.   
Invasion?  
  
Zim pulled at his trenchcoat, whining with his eyes and drooped antennae.   
Dib obliged. He wiggled out of it. As soon as he had folded it neatly and placed   
it beside him, Zim shoved him back down against the wall. He put his mouth   
on his mouth. He took his gloves off, arms twisted painfully away so he wouldn't   
have to stop kissing. His hands were naked, and under the hem of Dib's shirt and   
feeling around the waist and the stomach and intestines and what is that?   
Dib grunted. He was 12.   
  
Zim had his palms flat on his shoulders. His tongue found its way into his   
mouth. Zim was starting to think he had this inferior human anatomy down pat.   
  
Dib felt woozy. Dib didn't know what to do with Dib's hands. Dib closed   
his Dib's eyes but still saw the swimming purple in Dib's eyelids; the drowning   
purple.  
  
Dib felt his tongue. It was the first time. Zim's tongue was against the   
roof in his mouth. His skin was thin; Dib could hear his heart. It was   
unnaturally loud. It was because his body was 3% more water than a human's. It   
conducted sound better. Oh. Dib thought that was a pretty boring explanation. He   
was glad he didn't say it out loud.   
  
Zim smelled. Like some ungodly marriage of chemicals and citrus fruits.   
Like lemon-scented dishwashing liquid. He didn't taste much better. Did Irkens   
enjoy this? Dib was meaty, heavy, breathing in Zim's face. It all stunk so   
strong, Zim thought his skin would slough off. That would hurt. He would have to   
kill him. He would have to kill him anyway.   
  
Dib felt woozy. His brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. All the blood was   
draining out of his huge head and into his (huge?) cock. Things were just   
getting hot and heavy, when Dib said "Zim".  
  
He leapt back, startled.   
  
They hadn't said a word till now. They had hardly acknowledged each   
other's presence.   
  
Dib swallowed. He felt like crying cause the fun was over, he felt like   
laughing because he was so relieved, he felt like crying all over again because   
it should have been so much more than fun. He told himself to suck it up. Zim   
looked pissed off. He glared really big holes into him.   
  
Dib just wondered How could this happen? Then he said it out loud.  
  
Zim cocked his head. "How could you let it?" He was smiling now. No wait.   
He was baring his teeth.   
  
Dib couldn't think of a clever retort. Really, why did he let it?   
  
Zim stormed off. He slammed the door as he walked out. Dib stared at his   
ass. 


End file.
